Laser bolts from the Dakuryuu sliced past the pod. The pod seemed to have some sort of evasive programming as constantly firing thrusters kept it safe from the Kusari guns. Fortunatus had just started to wonder why no Kusari fighters were pursuing him when a wing of Bretonian Templars sped past him towards the Kusari destroyer. He cheered until he remembered that Philippa was probably still captive aboard. He scrambled to activate the comms unit.
Turning it on was simple enough, but it required a security code to transmit. All he could do was watch. That he could hear was little comfort.
Red wing. All ships engage. Lets teach these bastards that we wont tolerate their presence in our space!
As soon as the Dakuryuus guns started to target the Templars, the pods thrusters stopped firing, and it drifted. The fight was short. Whilst the Templars were unable to seriously threaten the Dakuryuu, they were far too manoeuvrable to be hit by its guns. The stalemate was broken by the Dakuryuu disengaging.
Red wing. Break off pursuit. Lets return to our patrol
Fortunatus breathed a sigh of relief. He had to believe that Phillipa was still alive on board the Dakuryuu. The Templars quickly disappeared from visual, and then scanning range. Fortunatus stared at the sensor display in disbelief.
Where the hell are you going? he screamed, furious that he was being left behind. Come back, you bastards! You must know Im here, you flew right past me!
If hed had the space hed have kicked something.
My daughters on there! he wailed, but it was to no effect. Neither the Templars, nor the Dakuryuu, returned. He sighed deeply, and settled back, waiting again.
The pod drifted slowly through Tau-31. He eventually became bored of staring at ice asteroids and dozed off.
A loud, metallic thud forced Fortunatus from the sheltering shroud of sleep. The pod shook violently, and several more loud thuds set his ears ringing. Something was grabbing the pod, and not taking too much care about it. He was thrown against his seat restraints for about 5 minutes before the noise stopped, and the pod finally came to rest. Bruised and shaken, he peered through the small window in the pods hatch. He was in a cargo bay, from what he could make out.
A face appeared at the window, and jerked back in surprise. Fortunatus could just make out a shout
Skipper?! Weve gotta live one!
The face reappeared and grinned uncertainly at him. It wasnt a pretty face. Fortunatus smiled back and raised his hand in greeting. The grin and the face disappeared, and the voice shouted again
Cmon then! Open up! You cant just hide in there all day, yknow! This was followed by what sounded distinctly like a kick to the hull of the pod. Fortunatus sighed, and opened the hatch to the pod. He was assailed by the smell of oil and ozone, and coughed. He clambered out of the pod, and into a well lit, but filthy cargo bay which was stuffed full of junk. A small army of men scuttled over the piles of metal, armed with cutting torches, as the useful was separated from the useless. He turned around as he was tapped on the shoulder, and looked straight into the face hed seen at the window.
All right, mate?! Get yer arse over there! said the owner of the face, waving his hand towards a somewhat less dirty man standing at some sort of control unit. Jackll take yer details, an well get yer to New London. Go on, now! I aint got no time fer gabbin. Shift!
A push to his shoulder sent Fortunatus stumbling across a mound of scrap metal. It was all he could do to stay upright, but he made it to the man hed been pointed towards. As he came to a halt, Jack looked up.
So. Looks like youve been rescued, my son. Im Jack Sloam, the captain of this here bucket. Were heading back to New London right away, so youll be home in a couple of days, if youre lucky. He stuck out a hand, which Fortunatus shook. Get yourself up to the bridge. Shaunas up there, and shell point you towards a bunk. He pointed towards a door. That liftll get you where you want to be. If you need any help, ask someone else, cos Ill be busy. A slap on the back propelled Fortunatus towards the lift doors before he could say a word. He pressed the button, and when the doors slid open, stepped inside. He pressed the only button in the lift, and it began its sedate progress towards its destination.
The lift doors slid open, revealing a spacious bridge with a single occupant, who turned around as he stepped out of the lift. With a broad, welcoming smile, she hopped out of her chair, and quickly crossed to him.
Hi there! You must be the one weve just rescued. Im Shauna. Follow me and well find you a bunk. She swept past him, and he was dragged along in her wake as she chattered away, barely pausing for breath. Youre a lucky one, for sure. We were just about to head back home when we damn near ran into you! No beacons or nothing. Its odd that you werent transmitting. You a spy or summit?
She turned and peered at him briefly, causing him to pull up short in surprise.
Nah, youre no spy! You aint got the look about you. Not that Id really know if you did. Aint never met a spy before, least not one that I know of. Guess that might mean Ive met loads, but they was just good spies, eh? She giggled briefly at the thought. I guess you could just make yourself paranoid with thoughts like that, eh? Dont see no point in it myself. Ill just keep on muddling my way through. Never get much trouble, me. Im no threat to no-one, you know? Just keep my head down whenever
Fortunatus zoned out at that point. He couldnt get a word in edgewise, even if thered been anything he could say to the verbal torrent being directed at him. They finally stopped in a large room full of bunks. Shauna pointed to one of the lower ones.
Thats your little piece of heaven, til tomorrow at least. Therell be food in a couple of hours, and the rest is just gonna be sittin bored on your bunk, Im afraid. Were hellish busy on these trips. Folks might seem a mite gruff, but theys just wantin to get home, yknow? Dont take nothing personal, and well have a breeze of a trip back to Trafalgar. Then we can arrange for you to get back to New London, and you can get on with your life! She smiled brightly at the thought. Thatll be nice for you, eh? So, who are you anyways? You aint barely said a word. Cat gotcha tongue? She giggled again. Sorry, always wanted to say that to someone. What was your name again?
This time she actually stopped talking. It took Fortunatus a few seconds to realise she was actually awaiting a response from him. Erm, Fortunatus Wright. Errr, just call me Nate.
Howdy, Nate! Put it there! Her hand was immediately proffered.
The next two days passed uneventfully, as the Junker ship made its way back to New London. The crew was busy most of the time, leaving Fortunatus to simply rest. Every now and then, hed pay a visit to Shauna on the bridge, but even she was preoccupied with preparations for the return, and the conversations were fairly brief. The rest of the crew paid him little, or no, mind. He was relieved that he didnt have to try and explain anything to them.
He found much of it hard to believe himself, so god only knew what anyone else might think. Who was he now, really? He really wasnt sure. By the time the ship docked at Trafalgar base, hed decided to return to what was left of his home. He doubted thered be any answers on Cambridge, but it was a place to start at least. He left Trafalgar the same day, with a promise to Shauna to keep in touch.
His arrival on Cambridge caused a minor stir. It had been 5 months since hed disappeared. Hed been pronounced dead, along with Philippa, 4 weeks after the attack on his distillery. The official reports claimed that it had been a terrorist attack launched by the Gaians, but from what he was able to gather, the armed forces had squashed any real investigation into the event. Martha was buried atop the hill which overlooked their house.
Numerous messages were sent to the armed forces, requesting their presence, but no response was forthcoming. Two weeks after arriving on Cambridge, after numerous interviews, debriefings and DNA tests to confirm his identity, he was finally able to return home.
He made sure he was dropped off well before theyd reached his home. The young man from the government offices whod volunteered to transport him was summarily dismissed a mile from the distillery. Fortunatus wanted to be alone.
It was a bright, warm spring day, and the countryside was teeming with new life. He walked briskly at first, but his pace slowed as he neared his property. Memories of that day started to assail him. As he reached the crest of a small, wooded hill that sheltered the house from the northerly winds, he stopped, unable to go any further. He was trembling, nauseous. He broke into a cold sweat, and saliva poured into his dry mouth. He fell to his knees, retching. This was it. This was where his happy life had ended. He hauled himself to his feet, and with a ragged cry, ran headlong to the hill on which Martha was buried.
There were two stones raised on the hilltop. One for Martha, and one for him and Philippa. Missing, presumed dead, it pronounced. A rage sparked in him there. All the pain and anger and hurt and fear and loss, all rolled up into one long, incoherent wail at the world. He kicked at his gravestone, slamming it again and again as he released everything that had stored up inside him. As the stone loosened in the earth, he grabbed it with both hands and heaved. Back and forth he shook the stone until finally he ripped it free, and raising it high above his head he brought it crashing down upon the larger stone.
As it shattered, so did his scream. Great, wracking sobs consumed him, and he collapsed against Marthas gravestone. The tears seemed like they would never cease, until, eventually, sleep came to heal him.
He awoke mid afternoon. The sky was now clouded, and a light drizzle was falling. He was cold, and shivering, as he hauled himself to his feet. Looking down on Marthas gravestone, he felt the tears welling again, but forced them down. He drew a breath deep into his lungs, and, as he slowly exhaled, struggled to regain some form of composure.
Ill find her, he said to the stone. However long it takes, Ill get her back from those bastards. He turned away from the gravestone, and headed down the hill towards his home.
As he got closer, images from the day the Kusari arrived flashed across his mind. A rage began to fill him as tears fell to the green grass. There, where he had cradled his dying wife. There, where his employees had been slaughtered while he and his daughter hid in the ditch. There, where hed lifted his daughter from the dust after the first attack.
Nothing had changed in his time away. The scars of that day were still visible, though the grounds were overgrown. Stepping into the house, everything was exactly as it had been left. He looked around briefly, then quickly left. There was nothing left for him there. He knew what he had to do. There was only one route he could see that would give him the opportunity to recover his daughter.
His first stop was at his solicitors offices. A quick meeting facilitated power of attorney being given to the firm. This would allow the distillery to be restarted, guaranteeing the safety of his estate. He also liquidated what assets he could, and then headed for New London.
On entering the executive section of the liner, he found himself seated next to a cocky looking young man in a mismatched, flashy version of a Bretonian Armed Forces uniform. Intrigued by the slightly unsavoury air the young officer exuded, Fortunatus leant over.
Good morning officer. Dont often see you military men in this section of a civilian liner. I was just on my way to enlist. Any advice youd care to indulge me in? My names Fortunatus. Fortunatus Wright. He offered his hand.
The officer beamed at him and clenched the offered hand in his. Captain Andrew Stuart, at your service! Joining up, eh? Looking to stick it to the blasted noodlemunchers no doubt! Capital, my man! Here, join me in a drink!
A bottle of Drewmores single malt, along with a tumbler, appeared. By the time the liner launched, Fortunatus was deep in conversation. By the time the bottle was half empty, they were half way to New London. By the time the bottle was empty, Fortunatus had joined Queen Carinas Privateers, and both men were passed out in their seats.
Sir? Fortunatus felt something pushing at his arm.
Sir? Time to wake up, sir. The insistent pushing continued.
Whuunnnh? Fortunatus opened stinging eyes, and peered up at a blurred image.
The image retreated slightly and the pushing ceased. Weve arrived at New London, sir. All the other passengers have disembarked, and were on a fast turn-around. Im afraid I have to ask you to leave the liner, sir. It was a pleasant voice, with the polished, clipped accent of the eastern provinces of New London.
Fortunatus blinked repeatedly in an attempt to clear his vision. As he tried to stand, a slim hand slid under his elbow to provide polite support. He grinned sheepishly at the still blurred form of the woman at his side. Thank you, miss. I fear I am being somewhat of a burden to you. I think you should know that I am feeling distinctly mortified at having to accept your most courteous assistance, and that I shall attempt to remove myself from your compassionate ministrations forthwith.
He stumbled forward, heading for the bright blur he assumed was the doorway that would eventually lead to the terminal. His vision was improving, and he could make out individual seats. As he got closer to the light, the blur resolved itself into a doorway, and he picked up his pace, though he still staggered.
Ten minutes later, vision fully restored, and the mother of all headaches pounding at his temples, he passed through customs and into the vast, open arena of New London space port. He immediately headed for the nearest coffee bar.
As he sank into the leather seat, steaming coffee clutched firmly in hand, he felt something crinkling in his jacket pocket. Reaching in, he pulled out a small data crystal and a hastily penned note that read:
Fortunatus
It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and I am delighted to welcome you into the ranks
of Her Majesty's Most Diligent Interdiction Wing... or Queen Carina's Privateers as we call ourselves!
You should proceed to the headquarters of the Bretonian Armed Forces. Give the data crystal to the
clerk, and they will ensure that everything you require is provided.
Given the state I leave you in, I would probably advise not turning up until tomorrow at the earliest!
Once you have familiarised yourself with your equipment, head for Leeds. I will meet you there.
For the next few days, I still have some organising, fundraising and recruitment to do, so I don't want
you getting into trouble until my order.
On the subject of orders, I want you to know that I'm a bit of a sucker for discipline... basically, what I
say goes. This doesn't mean that I don't want your input or opinions... far from it.
On a lighter note though, my orders tend to involve dashing and daring exploits! No poncy guard duty
for us! We'll be able to put all of your enthusiasm and energy to good use!
Andrew Stuart
Fortunatus sipped his coffee as he read. He shook his head as he recalled the drunken decision to throw in his lot with the young captain. He could still back out. But the longer he sat and thought about it, the more sense the decision made. As a privateer he would have almost unlimited reign in interdicting shipping in the Taus. This would surely make it easier for him to catch wind of the Dakuryuu, and also make it easier for him to pursue some course of action against it. He could worry about getting hold of a ship after reporting to the BAF headquarters.
Standing, he beamed as he resolved to follow the path laid before him. He would turn pirate! He laughed as he strode towards the bright, New London day.